


Portrait of a King

by kaclydid



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Reader is an artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaclydid/pseuds/kaclydid
Summary: from @imaginexhobbit on tumblr: Imagine drawing portraits of the company and saving Thorin for last because he is the most intimidating; while struggling to get his eyes just right, he catches you gazing at him





	Portrait of a King

If you weren’t covered in orc-blood - or your own, for that matter - you were usually covered in dirt from your trek with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. And, if you weren’t covered in dirt, blood, sweat, or any other grime, you seemed to be covered in charcoal dust up to your elbows.  
  
You weren’t sure how the packet of parchment had survived this long, or how you had managed to draw twelve dwarves and a hobbit and save them.  
  
Tonight, by the fire, you were working on two separate portraits. One was of the youngest dwarf, Kili. You had managed to draw his brother three days ago on another rest, and now, you were finishing up that damned smirk Kili wore at all times, smudging the charcoal with your fingers to render the correct shadows and highlights.  
  
Shuffling the papers as you got more comfortable, your thumbs left little prints in the corner as you packed Kili’s portrait away. The new parchment sitting before you had a handful of studies on it, all from different moments of the journey. All of them, of your leader, Thorin.  
  
For some odd reason, you could not draw the King Under the Mountain. You had studied his gait, the way he stood, the way he held the weight of all those he cared for on his shoulders, but his _eyes_.  
  
The line of his nose, the way his mouth curved just slightly on the right when he tried not to smile … you could draw every speck of personality Thorin possessed, but his eyes was where you drew the metaphorical line.  
  
Scribbling across another failed attempt, you bit your lip, lifting your gaze to look over the dwarves sitting about the fire. Thorin sat across from you, talking with Dwalin as they both smoked their pipes. His eyes had found a twig or pebble to watch near the fire’s edge, and you took your chance, dipping your head back down, tongue poking out slightly in concentration.  
  
It took three more days of hiking before you were able to return to your sketches, and even then, you hated what you saw. You had sketched Thorin that night by the fire, Dwalin at his side, but something was off. Shuffling closer to the fire for light, you noticed the arch of his brows, the creases and smile lines …  
  
And his damned eyes!  
  
Settling back against the trunk of the tree, listening as the dwarves started to tell stories around the fire, you found your gaze drifting up to Thorin, your hand working the charcoal into the parchment with only a few glances down to make sure you were placing the lines in the correct spots.  
  
A short cough came from over your left shoulder, but you found yourself too engrossed in the work you were doing to look up and acknowledge the visitor.  
  
“Wonderful drawing there,” Thorin started, his gaze on the pile of landscape sketches and maps laying out next to you on your bedroll.  
  
Whipping your head around to look at him, a lump rose in your throat, and you subconsciously moved your hands to cover the portrait of him you were working on. “Th-thorin!” you started, gaze flicking to the spot across the campsite where he had been sitting mere minutes before. “Is there something I can held you with?” you asked, glancing down as he flipped through the maps and drawings you kept in your possession. You didn’t mind, you had shown most of the others your work, but Thorin had never seen any of it, and now, remembering what you had been working on, your dropped your gaze to your lap.  
  
Staring back at you from the parchment was a perfectly rendered portrait of Thorin, one you had finally managed to get his eyes right in … one of the few where you noticed an emotion other than determination on his features.  
  
“What is it you’ve been drawing, then?” he asked, setting down next to your bedroll. “You’ve been staring --”  
  
You blushed, and hoped the twilight and dim campfire hid it. “Er … Well,” you tried, setting the charcoal back into your small case and leaning over to pull Kili’s portrait from your folder. “I’ve been drawing the Company …”  
  
With Kili’s portrait, the others came with it, their corners scrunched and dog-eared from being slid into the folder. Thorin smiled brightly as he looked down to his nephews and friends, holding them gently between his fingers so he wouldn’t smear them more and ruin them.  
  
“These are beautiful,” he commented, looking up to you, meeting your gaze.  
  
You held your breath as you smiled back to him, noticing for the first time the sparkle in his eye as he spoke to you. You had thought Thorin was hard and straight-edged, intimidating and scary. Glancing to the drawing in your lap, you bit your lip, checking to see if you could render his eyes any different. And found that they were perfect, showing an emotion you didn’t think Thorin could convey. _Admiration_.  
  
“And what has your attention tonight?” he asked, stacking the parchments neatly and setting them aside, on top of the folder.  
  
“Well …” you muttered, straightening and looking down to Thorin’s drawn face. “Did you know … your brow furrows when you are in thought?” you asked.  
  
“Why does that have anything --?”  
  
“No, wait,” you started, reaching into your pack and pulling out a leather bound book and flipping it to a random page. “I’ve been trying to draw you since we met in the Shire. Your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, but charcoal can’t duplicate that. Your stance when you’re armored and carrying a weapon is similar, but also completely different to when you’re unencumbered, lounging about camp,” you added, smile brightening your features, flipping a page to a side by side of Thorin in both scenarios.  
  
Thorin was speechless as he watched you, small smirk lighting his features as he listened to you critique your own work.  
“You’re infuriating, you know that?” you asked rhetorically.  
  
Moving your arms out of the way, you pushed the piece of parchment you had been working on towards him, folding your hands in front of your mouth to bite your knuckle. “You’re … you’ve got this spark in your eyes … right now, in fact … I’ve spent weeks trying to draw it correctly.”  
  
Thorin looked down to his portrait. He was seated against a tree, much like the one he had been seated at for dinner, pipe in his hand. His eyes were trained on something in the distance, his smile genuine and infectious.  
  
“If you hate it, you can tell me ... “  
  
“Why would I hate this?” he asked, genuinely concerned as he met your gaze.  
  
You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest.  
  
“These are wonderful … All of them, including this one,” he added, holding his portrait up slightly. “You’ve got every tiny detail, and yet I still look younger than I am,” he chuckled.  
  
You laughed slightly, too. “I draw what I see, and you’re not all that old ....”  
  
Thorin smiled back, handing over the parchment. “I wish to see more of your drawings when they’re finished if you don’t mind. I’d like to see your talents gracing the walls of Erebor one we reclaim it.”  
  
“I’ll show you whenever I finish something,” you smiled, reaching for one of your pencils. “Oh, and THorin,” you added as he stood to move back to the main camp. You scribbled a short note and a signature on the bottom of the parchment and held it out to him. “You can have it. I’ll no doubt draw many more.”  
  
Thorin laughed, stepping up to your side and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek in thanks. “Get some rest,” he added, smirking as he noticed you blush at the kiss, before turning on his heel and heading back to his bedroll.


End file.
